Travelling With Shadows
by Silver Tongued Wonder
Summary: A recollection of Nico di Angelo's first time shadow travelling. One-shot.


**Author's Note. **You may or may not find this interesting, but I couldn't help myself. I had to do more of Nico. This is set in the end of _The Battle of The Labyrinth, _when Nico tells Percy he doesn't belong in Camp Half-Blood. Percy gives Nico the Mythomagic statue of Hades, and then Nico leaves.

As the summary says, it's a short recollection of Nico's first time shadow-travelling.

No flames.

* * *

_Maybe it's okay to still be a kid once in a while._

Percy's words echoed through his mind. Suddenly, the lead Hades figurine gained a hundred pounds in Nico's pocket. As he marched through the dark forest, determination pumped through Nico's veins. He knew what he had to do now.

The night grew cold as stars gleamed down at him. He broke through the clearing, finding himself face to face with a dark brick wall. He let his fingers dance across the rough surface, feeling its frigidity, its lack of warmth. He decided it was perfect.

He took three steps backward, bracing himself, and then let his eyelids close over his eyes. He inhaled the cold night air, sweet and slightly metallic. His hands balled up into fists as he cleared his mind of everything—everything but the darkness, everything but the chilly air, everything but the shadows. He felt the souls, clawing at him with their gelid, wispy tendrils. He felt the shadows shifting in their dance to steal his attention. He felt the darkness.

He decided it was time.

He counted off to three, and then, without hesitation, plunged forward with his eyes tightly shut. Cold air slapped him across the face, and he thought he might actually be doing it. He was shadow travelling.

But something happened. His eyelids flew open as, head-first, he collided into the brink wall, yelling in pain and clutching his bleeding forehead. He was in pain, but Nico wouldn't give up. He took three steps backward, gathering himself, closing his eyes once more, and feeling the shadows.

This time, it was more powerful. Goosebumps travelled up and down Nico's arms. He could feel it. When he breathed in, he could almost taste it. Hesitantly, he balled up his fists and sprinted.

_BAM! _He hit the wall again. The second time seemed to have opened a larger gash on his forehead than the first one did. Pain throbbed from his forehead, the sickly red substance trickling down from his wound. He was shaking, he was cold, and he was hurt.

But most of all, he was scared.

Momentarily, he considered giving up and just travelling to California instead. He'd done it last time, and he could do it again. He could avoid getting hurt more, and it would save a colossal amount of energy.

It sounded so good; he almost gave into his common sense.

But he didn't. He swiped the blood from his forehead with the back of hand, and swallowed his cowardice. He took three shaky, unstable steps backward. He balled his fists. And this time, he didn't close his eyes.

_Get me to the Underworld, _he thought with all his might, willing the shadows to bend and fold around him.

As he ran, he thought he could actually see the darkness swirling in his midst. He thought he could feel the shadows as well. He thought he could hear the souls whispering and chanting in his ears. And when he looked down, he thought he was hovering an inch above the ground.

But he couldn't think anymore, because suddenly, just as he came a centimeter from the wall, it disappeared, swallowed in darkness. There was nothing to light his path. It was as if the entire city of New York had gotten an enormous blackout.

He was doing it! He was shadow travelling!

Shivers ran through his body, and eerily voices sang in the background. But he ran, ran until his energy was all but depleted. He felt his body getting heavy, as if he'd ironically put on a hundred pounds by running with all his might.

He ran until he couldn't run anymore. He collapsed on the ground, cold and exhausted. He thought he'd trapped himself in the shadows—until he looked up.

And there was the palace of Hades—all around it, darkness, but not like the shadows. It was his father's own darkness.

He was in the Underworld.

A strange smile made its way onto his face. For once in his life, he felt like he would do all right on his own.

There it was again, Percy's words ringing in his ears: _Maybe it's okay to still be a kid once in a while._

"Maybe, Percy, maybe," Nico agreed breathlessly. "But maybe not for a son of Hades."


End file.
